What does he do for you?
by Haiti2013
Summary: The Bad Touch Trio are at a retreat with their respective partners, the only downside, is that they have to go to couple's therapy. But what's a couple of hours of therapy, when you get to spend the rest of day with your buds! The thing is, Arthur, Lovino and Roderich, don't really see it that way. How will the Bad Touch Trio keep everyone happy? Pairings: FrUK, Spamano and PruAus
1. FrUK Beginnings

**_Hey guys~_  
**

**_Ok, so the way I set these chapters up are kind of weird. Some chapters are dedicated to a specific pairing and then some are all three couples together. I'm going to try to post fast so that each couple gets equal exposure. _**

**_Please review, they make me happy XD_**

**_And I love to hear what you guys think!_**

**_Well, I'll let you get to the story now. Enjoy!_**

* * *

**Francis x Arthur:**

The psychiatrist sat cross legged in a chair facing the couch, examining the two men looking at her. They sat on the loveseat but they couldn't look any further from being in love. But as Dr. Elizaveta Héderváry knew all too well, looks could be deceiving.

"So, I'm sensing some tension," she began.

"No shit, Sherlock," the Brit immediately quipped as he rolled his eyes. His French partner raised an eyebrow and looked at the psychiatrist for sympathy.

"Do you see what I have to deal with?" he sighed. As the doctor nodded contemplatively, the Englishman gave her a dirty look.

"We've only been here two minutes and you're already taking his side? This is fucking ridiculous!"

"Oh, that's nice. Curse out the pretty lady before she even knows our names. I guess we're those people now," the Frenchman sighed.

"So you think she's pretty?"

"_Oui, _I think she's pretty gorgeous," he replied, winking. The psychiatrist looked cautiously between the couple. Even though she was truly flattered, she tried her best to refrain from blushing. Something told her it would only set the Englishman off further.

"Why do you always fucking do this to me, you bloody frog?"

"So my name's Francis Bonnefoy," smiled the Frenchman, ignoring the Briton's question. "And my boyfriend here, is called Arthur Kirkland."

"I won't be your boyfriend for long if you keep acting like such a bloody idiot!"

"Well let's see," Francis appeared to theorize. "If you break up with me now, we'd have been together for a whole week."

"Wait you guys have only been together for a week? The 'Honeymoon' phase usually lasts a couple days," Elizaveta noted. Francis nodded.

"Yes usually, but Arthur wanted to skip all that and get right to the fighting," he remarked sarcastically.

"And you wanted to skip all that and get right to the fucking!" Arthur snapped back.

"At least that's fun."

"Hey, don't blame me! We're here because of you!"

"You should be thanking me!"

"Ha! For what?"

"For caring, _abruti_!" (Idiot)

"What did I say about speaking in that bloody language of yours!?"

"Just because you don't get it, doesn't mean I shouldn't speak it. I'm sorry if I have culture," Francis asserted coolly.

"You can be such a prat sometimes!"

"And you make fun of me for not speaking English? What the hell does 'prat' even mean?"

"It means you're an ass!"

"Okay!" Elizaveta yelled to get their attention. _This screaming match was counterproductive. These bastards needed to be happy already,_ she thought. They were so damn cute together; it hurt her that they were arguing. Arthur and Francis turned to look at her, surprised that such a voice could come from such a demure woman. "You guys like each other, right?"

"What?" Arthur asked. "What kind of bloody question is that?"

"A simple one, hopefully," remarked the Frenchman.

"Arthur, do you love Francis?" Elizaveta asked calmly.

"What-I-it's not-who is. There are people out there that-it's-you," Arthur stuttered as he felt his face grow warmer. "I didn't come here to be interrogated!"

"You came to couple's counseling and thought I wasn't going to ask you a single question about your relationship?"

"When you say it like that it sounds ridiculous!"

"How would it not sound ridiculous?" After a minute, Arthur simply glared at his therapist and Elizaveta raised an eyebrow. She turned to Francis.

"Do you love this man?" She asked, gesturing at Arthur. The Frenchman crossed his legs and thought for a moment-a long moment. Arthur looked at him as if he wanted to be mad but wasn't sure if he should be yet.

"You see, that's an interesting question," Francis began. "The way you phrased it suggested that Arthur was a man and not 51% eyebrows."

Elizaveta attempted to suppress a giggle as the Englishman turned to his partner in fury, his eyebrows furrowing so deeply they looked like one giant caterpillar.

"_Mon cher_, be careful. If you get those eyebrows too close together, they could start a fire," the Frenchman remarked before his lover could say anything.

"You're just jealous, you bloody frog," Arthur snapped. Francis pushed some of his hair away from his face and raised an eyebrow at this English boyfriend.

"Jealous of what exactly? Honestly, what is it that _you_ have, that _I_ would want?"

"For one, I'm intelligent."

"Perhaps, but that depends on how you judge intelligence. For instance, I'm more knowledgeable in the ways that matter, like philosophy, sex, cuisine, sex, languages, sex, art..." he rattled on. "All you know is how to properly place a comma."

"The oxford comma is extremely important!"

"Did you hear that?" Francis placed his hand behind his ear and gestured it towards the window. "That was the sound of bullies all over the world trying to punch you."

"You're hilarious."

"And that's without the aid of comically enhanced eyebrows."

"Why is it that you always make fun of my eyebrows? Am I so perfect that you have to focus on my one flaw?"

"You have many flaws. There's your arrogance, stubbornness, pride, pretentiousness, the list goes on."

"Really?"

"There's your height, strength, cooking abilities, counting skill-"

"You skip about ten numbers one time, and all the sudden you can't count!"

"I asked you if we had enough, and what did you say?"

"It doesn't matter! Everything turned out fine!"

"Because _I_ made it turn out fine! It could've been a disaster! I save the day and what thanks do I get? 'I guess you're not as useless as I thought'. Does that even qualify as a compliment?"

"Well what kind of thanks did you want?"

"Sex."

"That's all you ever want! You'd think one day you'd get sick of it!"

"I say we test out that theory. You should just keep having sex with me and if I get bored, you were right."

"Maybe I will!"

"Good! Teach me a lesson!"

"I will indeed. We'll have sex un- NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! Nice try, I'm not falling for it!"

"One can dream," Francis smiled whimsically. Elizaveta stared at the two Europeans with the most content expression. She had already decided that these two belonged together, no one else would tolerate this kind of insanity.

* * *

"That was a complete waste of time," groaned Arthur as he laid on their bed in the hotel room. He knew that this retreat was going to be a bad idea -especially when he heard that the Frog's friends were going to be here. Just what he needed. To be surrounded by two _more_ morons, but he guessed it wasn't too bad, when he thought about it. They only had to see the _**shrink **_for an hour and then they were free to do whatever they want, but Arthur was already sick of it. _Why the fuck did he even agree to this shit? _He could have sworn he was completely against it when they had been deciding whether they were coming or not. _That sneaky Frenchman always gets what he wants, it isn't fair. If I looked like that, I'd be able to do whatever I wanted to... _Francis walked out of the bathroom in his swim trunks and stopped the Brit's thoughts cold. Arthur sat up on the bed to examine the man that was gathering his stuff to go out.

"It wasn't that bad _mon cher,_ you need to calm down," Francis suggested.

"Don't fucking tell me what to do! I'm a grown man."

"Believe me, I know," the Frenchman smirked. "But you don't have to get so upset all the time." _Is that what he thought? That I'm some kid throwing tantrums? Well fuck him! Who needs him! I can do whatever the Hell I want!_

"I wouldn't be upset if you would stop being such a jack-off!"

"I doubt it, you act like an imbecile no matter what I do," sighed the Frenchman. He reached into his bag and grabbed the sunscreen, applying it on his abs and then his back. Arthur was trying not to stare. _The bloody idiot thinks he's sooooooo sexy! Well he isn't. He's so damn hot, that's what he is! Sexy, please? I only want him _most_ of the time... I suppose he is hot... Like fire. Give me what you got, oh this thing's loaded, give me what- now is not the time to sing random songs. What was I thinking about again? Oh right, with brilliant blue eyes and shoulders you can hang your dreams on. Who wants that anyway? Hmmmm? Bloody git. _

"Aren't you going to get ready?" asked Francis.

"What?" Arthur asked, coming out of his thoughts.

"Not that I don't adore you staring," smirked the Frenchman. "But you can do that anytime, and hopefully, later you'll do more than just stare. However, our friends are waiting and we don't want to be late." _Is he serious? Me? Stare? At him? And he's trying to blame me for us being late? He's the one over there applying enough sunscreen to protect a bloody elephant! Who the hell wears that much sunscreen anyway? It's unnecessary! You'd think the bloody tosser was going to the sun itself!_

"What are you talking about? I've been ready to go for hours, you're the one taking forever," Arthur quipped.

"You're ready?"

"Isn't that what just I said? God, what's wrong with you? It's like you don't even try to listen. What? Did you put croissants in your ears?"

"Firstly, that be a terrible place to store them," he said coolly as the Englishman scoffed. "Secondly," the Frenchman began slowly. "You're going to the beach in, _that_?" Arthur looked down at himself to see what Francis was talking about. _Oh, bloody hell! I didn't change out of my clothes yet. _Arthur could feel his boyfriend smirking as he realized his mistake. _The git thinks he's so clever, I'll show him!_

"This is how I always go to the beach."

"You're wearing like three sweater vests! Why is that? Instead of packing you thought you could just wear all your clothes?"

"These are just my beach clothes."

"What did you plan on doing once you got there? Drown?"

"That's my business."

"I'm your boyfriend!"

"So obviously, you won't let me drown, problem solved."

"If you go swimming in that, not only will I let you drown, I'll personally stop the lifeguard from saving you. Then, I'll record it, so I can laugh every time I see it. All because you were too fucking proud to admit that you spent all your time checking me out, and not changing!"

"I could admit it, that is, if it were true! You're just too fucking conceited to think that people aren't checking you out all the time!"

"Come on, at least one sweater vest. I really don't see what the big deal is; I know you're wearing your trunks under that outfit. All you really have to do is take off clothes."

"You know what? I was going to, but now I won't! Stop trying to control my life!" Arthur spat. Francis took a deep breath and pondered for a moment. He calmly walked over to his English boyfriend.

"I'm sorry," he sighed. "You're right." Arthur was wary for a moment, before grinning triumphantly. _Of course I'm right! I'm always right and it's about time you appreciate it, you bloody-_his thoughts were cut off by the sudden sensation of Francis' lips on his. At first, he was a little tense, even trying to remove himself but he couldn't maintain the charade for long and when he reciprocated the kiss, the Frenchman took it as a green light. Arthur felt Francis' hands explore his body, removing his vests and then his shirts. The Brit pressed his now bare chest against the strong blonde's body and soon he felt his buckle become undone. Within a few moments, he ended up standing in nothing save for his swim trunks, but as he tried to deepen the kiss, Francis pulled back. Arthur stood there, confused as the man tossed him the sunscreen.

"Alright, you're ready. Let's go," Francis noted seriously as he grabbed the bag and headed out the door.


	2. Introducing, Spamano!

_**Thanks to everyone who reviewed, followed or favorited! You guys are amazing :)**_

_**So this is the Spamano chapter and PruAus is coming soon!**_

_**Please review! They mean sooo much to me, maybe too much. I NEED THEM.**_

_**If I was dying, and I got a review, I'd die happy. I need reviews like Romano needs Spain... you don't want me to be a Romano without his Spain? A Prussia without his awesome. I'm Prussia, do you want me to live my life without awesome? Nobody wants that. **_

* * *

**Antonio x Lovino:**

"My name is Dr. Elizaveta Héderváry," the psychiatrist smiled as she introduced herself.

"It's wonderful to meet you, I'm Antonio Carriedo," smiled back an extremely handsome Spanish man as he shook her hand. "And this is my," he began but stopped cold as he caught a glimpse of his Italian partner glaring at him. "This is Lovino Vargas," he corrected sadly.

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you both," she grinned as she attempted to shake the Italian's hand. He simply stared at back at her until she awkwardly retracted her hand.

"So, you two are..." Elizaveta began, pointing in between the two of them.

"Human? Yes," Lovino remarked.

"No, I wanted to know what type of relationship you two are in."

"He's Antonio. I'm Lovino. That's our relationship."

"So then why are you here?" she asked, keeping an eye on the sulking Italian.

"Nothing," snapped Lovino. "We don't need your fucking therapy. I'm not some girl who's going to sit here and cry about their feelings. We should just go," he declared, but he didn't move. Antonio watched him and turned to Elizaveta.

"Lovino just gets so angry all the time," he said.

"It's because you fucking piss me off, you tomato bastard!"

"And he's got a mouth on him. A cute mouth that I love to death but sometimes he says the nastiest things," Antonio explained.

"Don't fucking talk about me! I can speak for myself!" the Italian yelled.

"Well, why don't you?" asked the therapist. "Why are you so angry?"

"Don't just fucking spring questions on me! Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Come on Lovi, don't yell at her. She's just doing her job," claimed Antonio, resting a hand on the Italian's shoulder. Elizaveta watched in amazement as Lovino sank back in his seat next to the Spaniard. He quietly grumbled something about being called Lovi, but the therapist was far too busy writing down notes. After scribbling down some key points, she looked up at the couple. Lovino was still far too angry for his own good, but Antonio had a huge grin on his face, like he was on top of the world.

"Why are you so happy?" asked the psychiatrist, curious.

"What's not to be happy about?" the tanned man smiled.

"You see? That's his fucking problem! He's always so damn happy! You can't trust a man who's always smiling; it isn't normal! Normal people aren't that happy!" spat Lovino. The psychiatrist looked at the sulking Italian and then at the Spaniard, expecting some sort of retort or at least some consequence of Lovino's harsh words. There was none. Not in the slightest. Antonio kept on grinning like he was the luckiest man in the world. Even Elizaveta had to admit that it was creeping her out a little.

"Why are you so happy?" she asked again, avoiding Lovino's gaze as he stared daggers.

"The world is so full of misery," explained Antonio. "Smiling can make the world seem a little less harsh." Elizaveta blinked a few times, she had never thought of that. She quickly jotted the word _-optimist-_ down by Antonio's name.

"Who the hell talks like that? Smiling for no reason is stupid and makes you look like a bumbling idiot!" Lovino shot back. The therapist pressed her lips together and marked _-PESSIMIST-_ near the Italian's name. She looked up at him and he glared at her. She glanced back at her notepad and circled the word.

* * *

"We're not going back," claimed Lovino as he and Antonio got ready for the beach. He was in the bathroom, while the Spaniard was in bedroom preparing a backpack with towels and other shit people brought to the beach.

"Aw come on, it's not that bad," admitted Antonio.

"Are you fucking stupid? That bitch just came out of nowhere with those questions and expected me to answer them? Sorry princess, that's not how I roll," snapped Lovino.

"How you roll?" Asked Antonio quizzically, poking his head into the bathroom. "Have you been hanging out with Alfred?"

"Shut up, dickhead! As if I would consult with that burger loving idiot!" The Italian yelled, blushing slightly. "You know what I meant," he declared pushing past the tanned man in the doorway so he could go sit on the bed. Antonio turned to face him.

"Um, why are you wearing that?" The Spaniard asked, surveying Lovino's outfit. The Italian looked down at his clothes, swim trunks, a white undershirt and flip flops.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"The undershirt? I mean are you going to wear that in the water? It must be uncomfortable," Antonio stated. "I think you'd better remove it." Lovino blinked a couple of times before forming a scowl. _You want me to take off my shirt? Why? So your six-pack can look even more defined Mr. I don't have time for the gym but I look like a god anyway? Well you can take your long ass name and shut it because I'm not taking it off! Standing shirtless like an idiot, looking sexy as fuck—I mean like a stupid person that does stupid, um, things! Ha! Didn't see that coming did ya? What was I think about? Oh yea, this stupid Spaniard trying to tell me what to do! Where does he get the nerve?_

"You're seriously telling what to wear? Maybe I wanted to shield myself from the sun, did you think of that? Huh? Or is that what you want? To walk along the beach shirtless, while the sun slowly kills me! Well tough tomatoes, you bastard, you're not going to kill me today!" The Spaniard looked at his boyfriend in extreme confusion. _That's right, you ass-hat! Your plan's been ruined!_

"Why didn't you just put on sunscreen if you're so afraid of the sun?" he asked gently. Lovino blushed slightly and averted Antonio's gaze._ Afraid of the sun? I'm not afraid of anything! How dare he? What's with the sudden interest in sunscreen? I know what it does! I swear to God this guy is trying to make me look like a damn idiot._

"Who said I was afraid of the sun? Do I look like a fucking coward? I just don't like applying that shit, it's gross!"

"I could do it for you," suggested Antonio, grabbing the bottle and stepping closer to the Italian. Lovino quickly took a step back.

"Um no, that's okay."

"Don't be ridiculous," smiled Antonio, his green eyes lighting up as he chuckled slightly.

"Don't touch me," Lovino warned as he moved back even more.

"I'm not going to let you get sunburned," the Spanish man said calmly, walking forward.

"Get back!" the Italian screamed retreating a little faster. He tripped and landed on his bed but he hopped right back up. "I'm serious, you freak. Stay away!" _That dumbass Spaniard almost got me hurt! I swear to God rooming with him is more dangerous that staying with Feli!_  
"Let me just apply the sunscreen," Antonio reasoned. "So you can take off the undershirt and we can go."

"I don't need sunscreen," he insisted.

"Of course you do," the Spaniard claimed. "I'm tanner than you and I still risk getting burned."

"That's because you're fucking weak. I never burn!"

"Really?" Antonio asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," Lovino said slowly, somewhat rethinking his assertion. _I dare the sun to try to burn me! I don't even think it's possible. The thing's like a fucking millions of miles away, you Spanish bastard! What do you know?_

"Well, if you're sure," Antonio shrugged.

"Damn right, I'm sure," Lovino spat back.

"Then, can you please apply it for me?" Antonio smiled, looking at his boyfriend through his chocolate bangs. "I can't do it without help."

"Of course I can-wait, what?"

"Can you rub sunscreen on my back?" he asked again, his green eyes lighting up a little. _What is this some sort of porno? Why would I want to rub sunscreen all over him? Step back, you psycho, I'm not falling for any of your tricks! But how do I get out of it? I just have to come up with the perfect excuse so he doesn't think he intimidates me. Because he doesn't. Not in the slightest. At all. Nope. Couldn't care less about those toned abs or those impossibly green eyes or that wonderful-no! Don't care. Shit, he's staring at me. What should I say?_

"My hands are broken," the Italian claimed flatly. _Smooth. He won't suspect a thing._

"What?" asked Antonio, his eyes filling with concern. He walked over to the Italian and tried to check out his hands but Lovino jerked them away. When he noticed Lovino blushing lightly, he chuckled. "Aw, Lovi, that's so cute. After all this time, I still make you nervous."

"I'm not fucking nervous around anyone!"

"It's ok," Antonio assured, picking up the phone. "Francis isn't that far from here, I could just ask him."

"What? There's no way you're doing that!"

"Why? I'm sure he wouldn't mind."

"That's not the point. I'm your boyfriend! I don't want him rubbing his little French hands all over you."

"Little French hands?"

"This is why I can't talk to you! I call you my boyfriend and you only focus on Francis!"

"Since you're my _boyfriend_, then why don't you apply it for me?"

"Didn't I just tell you my hands are broken? I fucking say one thing and you just fucking ignore me! Why the hell do I even bother?"

"So you won't pass the sunscreen for me?

"Hell no!"

"And I can't get Francis to do it?"

"Over my dead body!"

"Lovino, what do you want?" Antonio sighed. _What do I want? WHAT DO I WANT? What kind of fucking question is that? I give up! I fucking give up! Why do I even put up with this bastard? He's as slow as... I don't give a fuck, something that's really slow!_

"I want you to stop being such a pansy ass motherfucker and figure out how to apply sunscreen yourself!" Lovino grabbed his room key and swiftly walked out the door, slamming it behind him.

"Él es tan lindo cuando está enojado," (He's so cute when he's mad) Antonio smiled to himself as he followed his boyfriend out.


	3. Enter, Awesomeness

_**Hi~~**_

_**Thanks so much to all of those who review, follow or favorite this fic.**_

_**You guys make it worth writing! :)**_

_**I'm soo happy that you guys like this story!**_

_**Enjoy PruAus everyone!**_

_**Disclaimer: This chapter may contain the word awesome. Just like once or twice...**_

* * *

**Gilbert x Roderich:**

"Welcome to my office Mr.-um, what did you say your names were again?" asked Elizaveta, a little embarrassed. She usually remembered names, but this had been a crazy day.

"I'm Gilbert Beilschmidt!" the albino grinned. Elizaveta smiled, she liked this guy's energy. Now, his partner was a completely different story. The therapist glanced at the brunette who was slumped back into his chair, simply staring lazily at everything surrounding him. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere else. Elizaveta and Gilbert watched him for a while, wondering if he was eventually going to say something. He glanced at both at them from behind his glasses and sighed, as if to say 'I acknowledge your existence, but you are not worthy of my speech.' "And he's Roderich Edelstein," Gilbert explained as he pointed to his dark haired partner. Elizaveta nodded and jotted down some notes.

"So, do you guys want to tell me how you met?" she asked brightly. Roderich scoffed. Elizaveta's smile receded a little. "Is something wrong?" she asked.

"No, continue with your 'counseling'," the Austrian insisted, sarcasm pervasive in his speech. The psychiatrist bit the inside of her mouth to control her tongue. She couldn't lose anymore clients because of her temper, but if this guy continued to press her, she had her at-work frying pan ready, under her desk.

"What do you think is wrong with your relationship?" she asked, turning her full attention to the albino.

"He's angry like all the time, for no reason," Gilbert claimed.

"No reason?" Roderich asked incredulously, sitting up.

"That's what I said. Keep up," the albino asserted. He looked at the therapist. "You see? He's not even listening to me."

"You're the one who doesn't listen!"

"Name one time!"

"There's the time I told you not to go out drinking with your friends or when I told you not to let Gilbird loose in the house _or_ when I told you not to land horses on my pianos," he ranted on.

"I said 'name _**one**_ time'! You see?" he asked the psychiatrist. "It's like he's doing it on purpose."

"I see," nodded Elizaveta. At this the Austrian only seemed to get angrier.

"Don't agree with him! The idiot's always messing me!"

"I explained why those things were necessary and it's not like they weren't fucking awesome!" he grinned.

"Oh my god," Roderich sighed, placing two fingers on his temple. This man gave him a headache.

"You guys seem very different," noticed Elizaveta.

"Really?" the brunette mocked. "And what brought you to that brilliant conclusion, huh?" The therapist squinted at him.

"What brought you two together?" she asked sternly, still watching the sarcastic man.

"I'm awesome," grinned Gilbert.

"What my friend here is _trying _to say here is that-"

"Whoa, hold on," intruded Elizaveta. Roderich raised an eyebrow at her; people did not interrupt him.

"What?" he asked coolly, clearly not interested in the answer.

"Why did you call him your friend?"

"Because, he's my friend?" the Austrian answered, condescendingly. _Who did this woman think she is? Interrupting him and asking him childish questions? Hopefully, we can get our money back._

"I thought he was your boyfriend," she corrected.

"What are you talking about?" he asked. Roderich really didn't see what she was making a big deal over, friend, boyfriend, what was the difference?

"It's like you're not even recognizing the relationship," she explained.

"Because I don't want to use labels?" the Austrian asked. "Sorry, if I don't fit in to your fan girl description of what a relationship is supposed to be like."

"No," she breathed, trying to remain calm. "The way you say 'friend' is far too casual for someone who supposedly means so much to you. It doesn't matter what other people think, it's what you believe about the relationship that's important. And right now, I'm getting the vibe that you don't really care." Roderich just stared at her and she reciprocated.

"He does it all the time," agreed Gilbert, interrupting the tense silence. "Doc, do you think he's embarrassed of me? I mean it's not really possible, not with all this awesome." The silver haired man stood up and lifted his t-shirt to reveal perfectly toned abs. He looked at them, lightly grazing them with his palm and glanced at the therapist. "Do you want to feel?"

"Sit down, Gilbert!" shouted Roderich as he tried to pull down the albino's shirt. Elizaveta smiled and shook her head.

"Your loss," he shrugged and turned to his boyfriend. "What about you?" he winked.

"Now is not the time," the brunette warned.

"Ah, so later it is," he nodded, sitting back down.

"Why do you have to be so obnoxious all the time?" the Austrian asked.

"I think the word you meant was 'awesome'."

"You're ridiculous, that's what you are."

"It's pronounced awesome,"

"You're a moron."

"I'm awesome."

"You're as immature as a child!"

"Because it's awesome."

"Is that all you ever say? Sometimes I feel like awesome is the only word in your vocabulary!"

"And that's awesome."

"You're so infuriating!"

"-ly awesome."

"Infuriatingly awesome? That doesn't even make any sense!"

"I'm so awesome, it infuriates you," Gilbert began, placing a sympathetic hand on his partner's shoulder. "_But_ because I'm soooo awesome, I can forgive you," he finished. The Austrian swatted the German's hand away.

"I don't need your forgiveness! I need you to stop saying awesome!"

"Can't do it, not awesome. However, since I am, I'll forgive you anyway."

"Shut. Up!" Roderich barked, throwing his arms into the air.

"That would only slow down the speed of my awesomeness."

"Oh. Mein. Gott! Du bist so ein Schwachkopf ärgerlich!" (You're such an annoying moron)

"German is an awesome language, like me."

"You're an awesome language?"

"What did you say? I stopped listening after awesome."

"You're so damn conceited!" the brunette yelled, slowly clenching his hands into fist.

"If you were as awesome as me, you would be too."

"I feel like when I talk to you, you don't even listen to what I say! You just speak as if we're not even having a conversation! Just throwing words down!"

"Awesome."

"Yea, well...ugh!" Roderich growled in frustration, he took of his glasses for a moment and took in several deep breaths.

"I win, because I'm awesome," Gilbert smiled to himself, crossing his arms triumphantly. "You really need to watch that temper of yours. It's not awesome, _like me_."

"Say awesome _one_ more time, and I swear you'll sleep on the floor tonight."

"I'm too awesome for a bed anyway. It won't be able to contain my awesomeness."

At a loss for words to describe the anger welling up inside him, the Austrian chucked a pillow at the smug German's face.

For a moment, there was silence as the pillow fell to the floor... The albino chuckled at Roderich's awful aim and lack of arm power.

"That throw," Gilbert began. "Not awesome," he finished in a whisper, shaking his head.

Elizaveta watched the exchange, wide-eyed as this form of banter went on for the rest of the session. The therapist turned her head to each speaker with such interest one would think she was watching a game of tennis. Her note pad was almost completely blank, not having a chance to write anything down, except for, _I ship them_. But it was easy to tell that she had her work cut out for her.

* * *

"Where are you going?" asked Roderich as he noticed that Gilbert had changed into his swim trunks.

"To the beach," the German replied nonchalantly. "Do you want to come?"

"No!" declared Roderich. "I told you that we were perusing some art galleries today."

"First of all, I don't 'peruse', whatever that means," Gilbert explained. "Secondly, are you serious? We just got here, can't we take at least _one_ day off from all that culture crap."

"Culture crap?" asked Roderich, insulted. "I'll have you know that-"

"That it's boring?"

"Well, if that's how you feel," the Austrian commented, straightening up.

"We won't go?" he asked excitedly.

"No, I could go by myself." Roderich straightened out his clothes, glanced in the mirror to make sure his hair was presentable and headed for the door.

"No, no, no, nononononononanononanononono, no, no, _no,_" exclaimed Gilbert as he ran past him and blocked the door with his body. He pointed to his lover and lightly tapped the other man's nose with his index finger "Not happening. You have to come with me."

"I'm not going to waste my time on some stupid beach with your idiotic friends," he said coolly.

"Yes, you are," the albino nodded. Roderich looked at him confused.

"No," he said again slowly. "I'm not."

"Oh come on, Roddy," pleaded the German. "Don't do this to me." Gilbert dropped his arms from barring the door and rested them on the waist of his boyfriend. Roderich tensed up a little, but didn't move.

"What did I say about that ridiculous nickname?" mumbled the Austrian, rolling his eyes.

"I think it's pretty awesome," smiled Gilbert, pulling the brunette closer to him. "_Just like you_," he whispered lightly, moving his head to kiss his boyfriend's neck. Soon, Roderich was pressed up against the man's warm chest. He could feel Gilbert hands begin to explore his body and his lips moving up closer to the brunette's mouth. On the brink of giving in, the Austrian had to force himself out of the German's strong arms.

"No! No!" he jumped back, trying refocus. "You can't do that. You can't just get everything you want."

"Well, why not?" Gilbert practically whined.

"Because the world doesn't revolve around you."

"It should."

"It doesn't."

"Are you sure?"

"Am I-?" Roderich stared at the stubborn man, speechless. He shook his head. "You know what? I'm going to the museum. Are you coming or not?" Gilbert tiredly ran his fingers through his hair, resting his palm on the back of his neck.

"Can't we go tomorrow?" he asked.

"If I say yes, will we go tomorrow?" the brunette asked earnestly. The albino nodded sheepishly but Roderich will still suspicious. "Even if Francis and Antonio find this 'super awesome' thing they want to do?" he added. Gilbert sighed, loudly, while looking around the room, as if he was trying to avoid the question but the Austrian kept staring at him. Finally, the stubborn man gave in.

"Fine, okay," he nodded. "You have my word."

"Your word means nothing! If you lie to me, you lose the ability to say the word awesome for a week." Gilbert stared at his boyfriend, wide-eyed.

"I can't _not_ say awesome!"

"It shouldn't matter, because you don't plan on lying, right?" Gilbert bit his bottom lip in thought.

"Right, like I said, you have my word. You can always trust an awesome person!"

"Sure," Roderich smiled. "And remember, if you don't keep your word, you won't be awesome anymore."

"Ha, I'm not worried," he assured, the worry in his voice practically palpable. "Now go change, being late is definitely unawesome."

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_**A/N: So what do you think? I really want to know so please review!  
**_

_**Thanks for reading :)**_


	4. Finally, the beach!

_**Hello people~**_

_**Sorry it took me so long to update, I kind of got distracted with my other stories**_

_**But I'm back now and I want to thank everyone that reviewed/followed/favorited this story. You are incredible!**_

_**Alright, so this is a chapter with all three of the couples at the beach, it ran kind of long so I separated it in two**_

_**The second half should be up soon.**_

_**Okay, that's enough from me.**_

_**Enjoy the chapter and please review! :)**_

* * *

When Roderich and Gilbert arrived, they were late. The other couples had already set up their blankets and were relaxing in the sun.

"I guess you're not as 'awesome' as you thought you were," the Austrian smirked as they walked up to the group.

"Oh, I'm plenty awesome and I'm definitely not the reason we're late," Gilbert replied, matter-of-factly. Roderich stopped walking and looked at the albino.

"Are you suggesting that this is my fault?"

"I'm not _suggesting_ anything, this is completely your fault Princess, but don't worry, I forgive you, because I _am_ awesome," he said smiling. "Now, let's go," he hurried as he grabbed Roderich's hand to get him moving again, but the brunette was as still as a boulder.

"You're really going to blame me? I didn't even want to come here!"

"I know and that's why I forgave you for being late. I'm just being considerate!"

"Being considerate?" Roderich asked sarcastically.

"Of course! It's what awesome people do! You should be _thanking_ me." He then waved at Francis, who was signaling him to come over to their spot. "But you can work on that later," he winked, looking over the brunette slowly before he went to join his friends. He made sure to grab the backpack from Roderich's hands, so the irritated brunette couldn't just leave.

"Already fighting I see," smirked Francis as Gilbert joined them.

"Nah, we were having a debate over who's the most awesome. I think you can guess who won," he smirked. "_Me._"

"Can you go at least one fucking day without saying 'awesome'?" Lovino remarked through gritted teeth. He was laying on a blanket under an umbrella with Antonio.

"I could, if I wanted to," assured Gilbert. "But I don't, so I won't. It wouldn't be awesome," he asserted. Roderich rolled his eyes as he placed his blanket on the ground.

"Yea right. The day you stop saying awesome is the day Lovino stops cursing," chuckled Arthur.

"What the fuck is that mean? Are you trying to say I couldn't stop fucking cursing if I fucking wanted to, you ass-hat?!" retorted the Italian.

"See?"

"Ah, _mis amigos_, let's stop the unnecessary bickering and just enjoy this beautiful day," Antonio suggested. The group looked around and had to admit that the beach was pretty incredible.

"You're right Toni, we should be enjoying the beach," Francis smiled. "Who wants to go for a swim?" The Frenchman asked.

"I'd love to," grinned Antonio as he stood up. "Come on, Lovino."

"Come on Lovino what?" snapped the Italian, sitting up.

"Come on Lovino...please?" he attempted.

"Do I look like your goddamn lackey? Fuck off! I'm not going anywhere!" The brunette crossed his arms and glared at the Spaniard, who simply frowned back. Francis didn't like to see his friend upset so he walked over and placed his right arm around Antonio's shoulder, pulling him in for a quick side hug.

"_Ca va mieux _(This is better)_,_" the Frenchman laughed. "We'll have fun anyway." Antonio smiled slightly and put his left arm around Francis' waist.

"I guess."

Arthur watched the exchange and shot up angrily out of his seat. He didn't care for how the two guys had their arms wrapped around each other, especially since the bloody Frog was _his_ boyfriend. _I know they're friends but can't that prick ever keep his fucking hands to himself? It's like he's trying to make me jealous! Well, it doesn't work. I don't care. Doesn't bother me. Nope. Not at all. But Lovino? The way he's glaring at Francis, makes me think that French bastard's going to be missing a finger tomorrow. Can't let that happen, he needs those fingers for other things. And what's wrong with Antonio? Who just leaves their boyfriend alone at the beach to go frolic in the water with some blond? My blond. Well, not my blond. He just belongs to me. Wait, no I mean-_

"Arthur, did you want to say something?" Francis asked, curiously.

"What?"

"Well, you kind of jumped out of your seat, like you wanted to speak. But then, you just stood there, looking at us." Arthur looked around to see everyone watching him, well, everyone but Roderich, who had his nose in a book.

"Is that a crime?" he retorted.

"No," the Frenchman said slowly. "It's just weird."

"You're weird!"

"Why are you acting so strange?."

"I'm fine! I want to go to the bloody beach," he asserted.

"We _are_ at the beach," the Frenchman explained, raising an eyebrow. "Where you really need to go is a mental hospital," Francis said to himself.

"What did you say?" Arthur snapped.

"Nothing," his boyfriend replied innocently.

"What the Hell did you say?"

"Nothing, look, you said you wanted to go to the beach and we're here."

"So, I guess everything's just dandy then!"

"So, nothing's wrong?"

"My God, you're thick!"

"What?" Francis looked down at his form, gently placing a hand on his abs. "I go to the gym every other day. Damn, croissants, " he mumbled to himself.

"That's not what I bloody meant!"

"Well, if you just _said _what you meant, then it wouldn't be so confusing."

"I did! I want to go for a swim!"

"Why didn't you just say so?"

"I just did, you git. Maybe if you stopped raping people with your eyes, you'd actually hear what they say."

"I'm confused," Francis admitted. "Do you want to come with us or not?"

"No one bloody gives a shit if you're confused, you frog! _I'm_ going to the water and I don't give a damn if you join," finished Arthur, pushing in between Francis and Antonio to go to the water. Thinking jealously, he grabbed his boyfriend's hand and led him to the ocean, leaving a perplexed Spaniard behind.

"Wait, what about Toni?" the Frenchman asked.

"There's no turning back now!" Arthur claimed, marching on. Antonio looked at Lovino, who was wearing a scowl on his face that signaled everyone not to talk to him. Realizing that the Italian wasn't going to budge, the Spaniard slumped his shoulders and slowly followed his friends out to the water.

"What the Hell?" Lovino snapped; his boyfriend turned around to look at him. The Italian stood up and glared at the brunette from a higher altitude. "You were going to leave me? Here? Alone?" Gilbert looked at Roderich and pointed at both of them as he spoke.

"We're right he-"

"Can it, potato breath," Lovino interrupted.

"But Lovi, I thought you didn't want to come."

"That doesn't mean I wanted you to go, you fucking idiot!"

"Wait, what?"

"But now I see how easy it is for you to leave me!" he remarked, storming off to the bar. Antonio glanced at Gilbert, who shrugged. The Spaniard took off after his boyfriend. Left alone, the German turned towards Roderich and smirked.

"So what do you want to do now?" he smiled, biting down onto his bottom lip as he moved in closer to the brunette.

"I _want_," he began, removing his glasses to stare Gilbert directly in the eyes. He leaned in closer to his boyfriend, a slight smile on his face."To go to the museum," he finished, putting his glasses back on and letting his face become serious once again. The albino groaned and sulked on the towel they were sitting on.

"Fine, if you're just going to be a stick in the mud, I'm leaving," the German said, getting up.

"You can't just leave me! You're the one who made me come here!" the Austrian protested.

"At least you're not by yourself," he said, gesturing to the book in his boyfriend's hands.

"You consider that company?!"

"You seem to like it better than me," he retorted.

"That's preposterous!"

"Okay then, come with me."

Roderich sighed, halfway through getting up before he realized what was going on and sat back down. "No! I am not falling for another one of your tricks! I. Will. Not. Leave already you manipulative prat!"

"Seriously? You going to let me go by myself? That's not awesome. _Not. At. All_," he enunciated, shaking his head. "What if someone tries to snatch me up?"

"I would wrap you up in a bow and personally deliver you."

"Aw, Roddy, it's so cute when you try to act like you don't care," Gilbert smiled, moving closer to the brunette, taking his book and chucking it into the sand.

"Hey, I was read-"

"Shhh, shh, shh," the albino whispered, putting a finger on the irritated Austrian's lips. "Less talking, more kissing," he smirked, moving in to kiss his boyfriend.

"No, no," Roderich yelled, jumping up. "I am not falling for that again."

"Fall for what? Kissing your boyfriend?" Gilbert asked sarcastically. "Yep, you figured it out. The entire conspiracy. I'm guilty. I like to kiss my boyfriend. Lock me up, throw away the key. Better yet, I'll give you the key. That way I can be your prisoner: of _love_," the albino mused. Gilbert paused for a moment, as if he were running something over in his mind. "We should really discuss this prisoner stuff more later tonight, it sounds like fun," he smiled but Roderich just stared back at him, unamused.

"Weren't you leaving?" the brunette replied coldly.

"Well, I don't see why you wouldn't want the awesome me around, but if you're sure," He began, getting up. He stared at the Austrian for a while, but the brunette made no attempt to stop him.

"Alright, I'm really leaving," the albino said, taking a few steps in the direction of the bar. Roderich crossed his arms and watched him.

"Here I go."

"At that pace, you'll get there next year," the brunette commented. Gilbert stood there for one more minute before giving up and taking off. Once he was sure his boyfriend was truly gone, Roderich picked up his book and dusted off the sand. He just got comfortable on the blanket when he noticed Arthur was rushing up to him, having a particularly nasty coughing fit.

"Are you okay?" the Austrian asked, slightly concerned.

"We were...then he...backed away...fell...git...underwater!" the Brit coughed out as he grabbed his towel.

"What is it?"

"We were in the water, and then he kissed me. I backed away at first but then he started flirting and I fell for it. The bloody git tried to have sex underwater!" Arthur explained, once he caught his breath.

"Why am I not surprised?" the brunette asked, raising an eyebrow slightly. "Where is he now?"

"Still under there!" he claimed, exasperated.

"Aw," Roderich sighed, returning to his book. "Poor fish."

* * *

**_A/N: What's going to happen next? Will those fish survive? Will Roderich ever finish his book? Will Arthur's eyebrows ever be normal sized? Is it hot in Topeka? All those questions and more will remain permanently unanswered! Unless you review XD Thanks for reading!_**


	5. The Beach Continued

**_Super fast update! I should get like a medal of awesomeness or something..._**

**_Okay, not super fast, but for me, that's pretty good._**

**_Thanks to everyone who followed/favorited and reviewed, especially _**_Bobmango4!_**_ Thanks for your support! You guys know you're awesome, but that doesn't mean you can't hear it again. _**

**_You're awesome!_**

**_Alright, so our favorite couples continue their shenanigans (I love that word!) on the beach, yay!_**

**_Enjoy the chapter and please review!_**

* * *

"But Lovi, I don't understand," Antonio pleaded. "What was I supposed to do?"

"You weren't supposed to leave me and you're definitely not supposed to call me Lovi! Why don't you ever fucking listen?"

"But yesterday, you said that whenever I call you Lovi it makes you-"

"Shut up!" the Italian scowled.

"Hey, how's my second favorite couple?" laughed Gilbert as he joined the two of them. They had stopped a few feet from the bar to continue their argument.

"Fuck off!" Lovino snapped.

"Wow, that right there, is why you're not my favorite," the albino commented, shaking his head. "Do you want to get a drink?" he asked the Spaniard. Antonio shrugged.

"I guess, is that okay with you Lovino?"

"I don't give a shit! Do whatever the fuck you want!"

"Okay," the green eyed man agreed brightly. "Then, let's go, Gil."

"Don't have to tell me twice," the albino grinned as they walked off.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going tomato bastard?" Lovino muttered as he followed the two. Once they reached the bar, the German immediately ordered three beers.

"Aren't you guys going to order something for yourselves?" he asked, looking at his friends. They both stared at him for a moment before Antonio chuckled and ordered himself a beer.

"You're going to start off with three fucking beers? Who does that?" the Italian quipped.

"An awesome person, which you can see, I clearly am," the silver haired man claimed happily.

"You're a fucking drunk!"

"I don't get drunk," he asserted, getting into a superhero pose. "I get awesome," he finished, metaphorical cape blowing in the wind as his drinks arrived. In one swift movement, he chugged all three and ordered four more. "See?" he asked Lovino. "Awesome."

"Aw come on! That was a stupid move, Jackson was wide open!" a voice next to the albino whined. Gilbert whirled around to see a dirty blond clutching a beer and glaring angrily at the TV screen behind the bartender. His red eyes drifted to the TV to see some men playing hockey and he watched it for a moment, but the game wasn't that appealing.

"It's not awesome to yell at TV's you know, they can't really fight back," he smiled to his neighbor. The dirty blond's eyes grew slightly and he blushed as he turned to face the German.

"Uh, sorry about that, most times people don't hear my comments," he said shyly.

"It's cool, I was just messing with you," Gilbert grinned. This caused the Canadian to blush even deeper and for some reason this amused the albino. "I'm Gilbert."

"I'm-"

"Hey Mattie, I leave for a second and you already made a new friend," a man smirked as he walked up to the Canadian. "Who's this dude?" he asked, looking at the German.

"Uh, Alfred, this is Gilbert."

"Cool, it's awesome to meet you," the American grinned, shaking the albino's hand.

"Yes, yes, it is," the German replied. "It definitely _is_ awesome to meet me."

"So what are you guys talking about? Is Matthew here boring you with hockey statistics? I'm sorry bro, but no one cares who won the Whispper's Cup," he laughed.

"It's Whistler's Cup," the Canadian corrected.

"Yea, it wasn't me, so I don't care," Albert shrugged. Gilbert noticed as Matthew seemed to make himself appear smaller when he was next to his brother.

"It's not boring, it's actually pretty awesome," the albino claimed, causing the Canadian to smile. Alfred noticed this and grinned to himself.

"Bro, you should totally invite your new friend to our party tonight," the American encouraged.

"Party? That sounds awesome!"

"So, you'd want to come?" asked Matthew, hopefully.

"Totally! Could I bring some friends? Yo, Antonio," he yelled as he quickly turned around to see Lovino and his Spanish friend making out, but at the sound of Gilbert's yelling, the Italian jumped back.

"Get off me, you bastard!" the brunette yelled. "I'm going to the bathroom and while I'm gone, learn to keep your fucking hands to yourself!" Antonio watched his boyfriend sulk off and then he turned to his German friend, grinning.

"You look happy," Gilbert smirked.

"_Extremadamente_," he nodded.

"Antonio, this is Alfred and Matthew," the German introduced. "You probably couldn't see them past Lovino's tongue." The Spaniard blushed slightly as he shook the two guys hands.

"_¡Buenas tardes amigos mios!" _he smiled.

"Yea, you too," Alfred replied, looking slightly confused. "Does he speak English?"

"_Por supuesto que sí!_" the tanned man nodded vigorously, causing Gilbert to laugh.

"Yea, he does, but sometimes when he's really happy, he speaks in Spanish," the albino explained. "So Antonio, do you want to go to a party tonight?" he asked again.

"_Bueno_," the Spaniard shrugged. Antonio turned back to his drink to find a turtle attempting to climb into his beer mug. "_Oh, es tan lindo! Amo las tortugas!_" he cooed as he picked up the sea creature.

"We're in," Gilbert smiled, returning to his new friends.

"That's great. We're not completely solid on the details yet, so why don't you give Mattie your number so he can text you later."

"Sure," the albino agreed, handing the Canadian his phone. "Just put it in there."

"Okay," Matthew nodded, quickly entering his number and sending himself a text, so he could have the German's number as well, before returning it.

"Hey Gilbert, what are you doing?" Roderich asked, tight lipped, as he walked up to the bar.

"What?"

"You were gone for like an hour," the brunette explained and grin broke out on Gilbert's face.

"Aw, you were worried about the awesome me, how cute."

"I wasn't worried, you took the room keys."

"Hey man, I'm Alfred," the American interjected, thrusting his hand out for the brunette to shake. The Austrian looked over him for a moment, eyes resting on the outstretched hand.

"Quite," he replied coldly and Alfred awkwardly retracted his hand.

"Yea, Matthew, Alfred, this is my," Gilbert began, glancing at Roderich. "_Friend_, Roderich," he grinned.

"Friend?" the brunette asked.

"Oh cool, so you're coming to the party too?" Alfred assumed.

"What party?"

"The one at-shit," the American cursed as his watch began to beep. "Mattie, we have to go. We'll text you the deets, see you guys tonight," he assured as he left.

"He has your number?" Roderich asked, but no one responded.

"Uh, bye Gilbert," Matthew waved, as he followed his brother.

"Later," the German called back.

"What was that?" the Austrian snapped.

"What?" his boyfriend asked innocently.

"Friend? And how did they you get your number?"

"I gave it to him," the red eyed man shrugged. "Yea, _friend, _is something wrong?"

"Why'd you call me your friend in front of them?"

"Because we're _friends, _right?" Gilbert quoted. Roderich rolled his eyes as his boyfriend tried to use his own words against him.

"So you were trying to get revenge?"

"No, revenge is so petty and I'm far too awesome for that."

"You aren't too awesome for anything!"

"Nope, I'm pretty awesome. I have a medal that says so."

"Would you quit it with that word?"

"What word? Awesome? Roddy, you know that's not possible," he laughed.

"And stop using that infernal nickname! My name is Roderich!"

"Ok, shut the fuck up," interrupted Lovino, when he finally returned. "We're leaving now," he claimed as Antonio got up, turtle perched in his chocolate hair. "Where the fuck did you get that thing?" the Italian asked as they all headed back to their spot on their beach, where Arthur and Francis were having yet another argument.

"What's wrong?" asked Antonio.

"Arthur's just mad that I want to go to this party tonight," Francis said lazily.

"I don't care about your damn party," the Brit mumbled.

"So, it's jealously?" the Frenchman smirked.

"Jealous? What the hell would I be jealous about?"

"I don't know," the blond shrugged. "That Cecilia girl was pretty cute and seemed very excited when I said I might go."

"You thought she was cute?"

"Well, it was pretty obvious."

"You know what? Go to that bloody party, I don't give a crumpet!" he huffed as he marched off.

"Awesome!" cheered Gilbert. "So this means we're going to the party!"

"No it doesn't," Roderich snapped.

"Yes, it does. Didn't you hear? Not a single crumpet was given," he smiled. "And thank God for that, we don't have to eat it."

"It wouldn't be eating, well, at least not for us," Francis explained. "Arthur could eat it. We, on the other hand, would be combating the virus that is his cooking with all of our white blood cells until finally the plague overtook us and left us for dead."

"Wow, you're really against Arthur's cooking," Gilbert realized.

"That thing is legally considered poison in five different countries, so yes. I'm not too fond of it."

"Stop exaggerating," Antonio began. "It was only like four...and a half."

"Because that makes it better?"

"Okay, enough not talking about me. Go do stuff to get ready for the party. I have to go buy a new outfit," declared Gilbert.

"Why do you need new clothes?!" asked Roderich.

"I have to look good for the party."

"You never buy new clothes when we go out on dates. In fact, you don't _buy_ anything. Ever. You just mooch off me."

"Yeah, but Mattie's going to be at the party," Gilbert claimed slyly. Roderich's eyes grew behind his glasses so everyone could see the sheer rage in them. For a moment, he said nothing, but Francis backed up anyway, recognizing the tactic from Arthur. Lovino, who had been enjoying the back and forth between the couple, said nothing and even Antonio's smile faltered for a minute.

"What the Hell is that supposed to mean? So what if _Mattie's_ going to be there?!" Roderich growled.

"I want to look for Mattie."

"You...want...WHAT?"

"Saying things twice isn't awesome, I'm not repeating myself. You need to listen."

"Why do you care what you look like in front of that blond brat? His type probably just eats pancakes while watching hockey with a polar bear or something."

"Whoa, you are not making fun of pancakes. They're fucking awesome!"

"You're fucking stupid if you think this is about pancakes!"

"Is it about syrup? You know what I say, the more, the merrier," he smiled. "So, fight over?"

"Go to that stupid party to be with that Canadian whore! See if I give a damn!"

"He's not a whore."

"And how would you know that? You've known him for like a minute."

"You sound jealous Roddy," the albino smirked.

"Me? Jealous? Ha! Like I'd waste my time on such trifling emotions."

"Then, you have no problem going with me to the party, right?" Roderich clicked his tongue and took a deep breath.

"I wouldn't mind, but do you really want me there to get in between you and that _Canadian _of yours," he strained.

"In between? It would just be a group of _friends_ talking. How would that be a bother?"

"Then go be chummy with your 'friend'! See if I give a crumpet!"

"Great, no one likes crumpets anyway... I'm pretty sure we went over this!" Gilbert clapped his hands. "Francis go get Arthur and I'll meet you guys outside my room at 6 and don't be late," he said, glancing at Roderich. "It's so _unawesome_."

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**_A/N: lol crumpets...Thanks for reading!_**


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